The Kabras are outsiders- invaders and usurpers that may have claimed the Madrigal throne, but they will never truly understand the land. They are not of the land and the land is not a part of them. The past matters, and whatever the Kabras may do, Amy will never forget.

"Do you ever feel like if you could do your whole life over, you would?" "Perhaps, but then I'd regret it all over again, and I'd be back exactly where I started." *ON HIATUS*

In which I write several 39 Clues one-shots and multi-shots. *Chapter 14 is up- Part IV of Debunked!"

"I need you to promise me one thing. Promise me that you will never think of me the way your dad thought of my mom-," Amy says, and he can see how troubled her gaze is. "I can't- I can't deal with that-" her voice cracks a little, and she adds shakily "-and I don't think I could bear to disappoint you." *Written for the Writers Anonymous Holiday Challenge*

She remembers the frantic, heady passion and the simmering tension beneath the surface, the secrets and lies and the knowledge that their time together could be over in a moment's breath. It was something she could only describe as la douleur exquise: the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone she could never truly have.

"Do you think of me when we are not together?""Of you, and nothing else." How pretty his words are! If she were of a different bend, then perhaps she would have scoffed at them, or maybe she would have been wholly enraptured and taken in by every line. She does neither. *ON HIATUS*

Vikram has always known her, in some way or another, as the daughter of the Cahill matriarch, or a member of his vast, sprawling family, but he knew her first as the girl with the jade eyes. They're absolutely lovely- large viridian orbs that are like twin jewels framed by long lashes- And they're staring right back at him. *[Vikram/Hope] and eventual [Vikram/Isabel]*

Because a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, or How Various 39 Clues Characters Got Their Names. *For the 2018 Spring Gift Exchange for procrastinatingmushroomfangirl*

For what they have seen, what they have gone through when they were barely more than teenagers… it once felt like warmth and affection had no place in their world, and now, for Amy to receive it from not one, but two people- two people she has always loved more than anyone- she feels like the luckiest woman in the world. [Ian/Amy/Jake]

There are certain things... certain things that transcend all meaning and time, and perhaps this is one of them. Love is an inexplicable thing- he was once so reluctant to give it a label, but now… For her, he's willing to catch and sing the sun itself in flight. (Companion fic to "Again", from Ian's POV).

Attleboro hadn't been this merry in a long time, but she had been determined to make this season a festive one, partly to try and bring everyone together after the clue hunt, and another more selfish reason. That reason was currently not to be found anywhere.

"It's beautiful," She says, enraptured by the scene in front of her. He would be too, if he wasn't so busy looking at her. "It is," He says, meeting her eyes with such intensity in his gaze, she blushes, turning away. "Don't," He whispers, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear. "Look at me. I have something- something I want to ask." *A gift to this entire fandom!*

He finds her alone in the library. In truth, when Amy came here, she was trying to escape him, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was the first place he would look if he wanted to find her. And from the moment he had entered the dining room- entered back into her life- she knew he wanted to find her again. *For 39addict101 - Happy Holidays!*

#JBE2017 She's standing in front of their wreckage of a kitchen, the whisk in one hand and a knife in another, looking like a cross between an extremely beautiful murderess and a domestic goddess - not that he's about to tell her that.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young, single lady in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a husband, but not Miss Isabella Darcy, daughter of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy. However, throw in angelic cousins, elder brothers and their friends, and a ball or two, and Pemberley will never be the same, and neither will Isabella. *ON HIATUS*